


My Essential Anthology of TYO / my pompous collection of tumblr writing prompts

by niikolatesla



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: (sometimes past tense sometimes present), Changing Tenses, Consensual, Crossdressing Kink, Cute, FTM Transgender Character (s), Flirting, Fluff, Funeral, Gender Dysphoria, Informal Funeral, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Major Character Death on chapter 16, Minor Original Character(s), Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Post-orgasm thoughts, Smut, Transphobia, Waiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niikolatesla/pseuds/niikolatesla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay so people inbox me requests for little ficlets on tumblr and my blog set up kind of makes it hard to read so I'm putting all of them up here. Usually they're pretty bad and I apologize.</p><p>Rated explicit because sometimes people want some sex fics man I don't judge, explicit fics will have a *</p><p>Do you have a fic request/need to ask a question/are totally left in the dark wondering when The Bastards that Rocked is going to update????? well as for the third thing im actually an utter piece of shit BUT chapters are coming !!! I swear !!! but for the other two things look no further than:<br/>http://transboyvyvyan.tumblr.com/ask</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crossdressing*

_Anonymous asks:_   
_rick/vyv + crossdressing_

* * *

Vyvyan and Rick had learned a lot about each other since they started sleeping together. There was the inevitably discovered things that they found through trial and error, the volunteered information, and the not-so-volunteered information. Two rather important pieces came out of the latter- 1: Rick dressing like a girl sometimes was not a kink, as Vyvyan had previously assumed. It was what made him comfortable, and he had come to respect that. 2: Vyvyan dressing like a girl sometimes definitely was a kink, and only done during those appropriate times. Despite his rather domineering nature, Rick found that, despite some relish, Vyvyan rather liked to give up power at times. Mostly, he grappled for dominance and won, but the times when Rick got it, Vyvyan enjoyed it. Really, really enjoyed it.

Rick thought about this after Vyvyan had gone to sleep, passed out on his chest and breathing gently. He stroked his hair, soft after the gel in it had been tugged or sweat out of his usual mohawk. The night was breathtaking, quite literally at some parts. It started down in the living room, with teasing that wasn’t noticeable to Neil or Mike- accidental touches and rude hand gestures, mainly. Then upstairs to Rick’s bedroom. He shortly won dominance before the battle truly began. In between hard, wet kisses and eager hands, Rick managed to get a pull on Vyvyan’s hair, sending him gasping already, then started to suck and bite at his neck. The way he had gripped onto Rick’s shoulders, rolled his hips and hummed as he closed his eyes tight was one of the most lascivious things Rick had the pleasure to experience. Rick learned early that his hair and his neck and getting any attention paid to them whatsoever could get him the most hard in the least amount of time. Before they could get too carried away, Rick “managed” to “talk” Vyvyan into putting on one of his tartan skirts. It was outrageously small and rather indecent on him, but the way they outlined the curve of his bum and showed off his magnificent, thick thighs and strong calves was salacious for the both of them. It wasn’t long before they were on the bed with Rick sliding his hands up his skirt, stroking him through his panties, leaving hickies all along his upper legs while Vyvyan panted and bucked underneath him, screwing his eyes shut and moaning his name. He was practically begging for Rick to fuck him blind until he did just that, both of them reaching a particularly strong climax, collapsing on each other and breathing hard. Vyvyan fell asleep right away, but Rick basked in the afterglow of his orgasm. He continued to stroke his hair until he felt his weariness catch up with him. He pressed his lips to Vyvyan’s forehead, then closed his eyes, more than satisfied with the evening.


	2. Closing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil gets a panic attack and Mike helps him through it

_Anonymous asks:_   
_Mike and Neil (idk what uh can they hold hands)_

* * *

 

Neil doesn’t know how to act with other people. He prefers his plants and the cookery over them- plants and cookery get him, they understand him. Unfortunately, plants and cookery do not comfort him in the way he knows, logically, another person can. He has no options, however. Rick and Vyvyan obviously hate him, but who doesn’t, he asks himself. Mike probably hates him the least. Neil is in the kitchen, as per usual, Mike is on the sofa, Rick and Vyvyan are fighting off in the distance, somewhere upstairs. Everything seems too far away for Neil’s comfort.

“Mike?” He asks, almost trepidatiously.

“Yes?” Mike asks back. There’s no snide name calling after it; just a simple response to his question. But Neil doesn’t know what he wants to inquire Mike about. ‘Hey Michael, I’m just having a really bad time. I thought talking to you might make me feel better, but like, it’s okay, I’m always having a really bad time. Sorry to bother you.’? His shoulders visibly slump as he looks at the back of Mike’s head, still awaiting an answer. He doesn’t look like the kind of person to comfort, but it’s worth a shot. He walks over to the little red couch, sits down, and takes a deep breath. “What’s goin’ on?” Mike queries. Neil feels his chest tighten up suddenly. What is he thinking? Mike doesn’t care. He should’ve stuck to his plants. Nobody cares about him. He could kill himself right now and none of the gang would bat an eye, except to complain about how the rent goes up a third. He’s overwhelmed. He stares out, looking at the fading carpet and over-processing, overanalyzing, becoming hyperaware of everything in the room. His clothes feel alien against his skin. The noise the couch makes as his fingers grip around it is deafening in his ears. He can feel his blood rush around in his veins and his body start to shake. Worst of all, he can feel Mike’s fearful stare burn into him. He releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and trembles. He feels like he’s fading away. He can’t get a sense of what’s happening with him or even why it is and he wants to feel something other than his hysteria.

A soft but firm hand is wrapped around his shaking one. It interlaces its fingers with his while another starts to rub his back in small, slow circles. He’s still panicked and can’t stop shuddering no matter how much he tries to, but he’s connected. He’s secured to the world. He’s real, the hands are real. He feels tears fall from his eyes. The panic doesn’t subside, but neither does the comforting.

“It’s okay Neil. It’s going to be alright.” Mike says. His voice wavers slightly, but Neil doesn’t mind. He’s comforted. Someone cares.


	3. Get Reil* (Rick/Neil sin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Neil try something different in the bedroom.  
> Get it its like get real but its reil cos its rick/neil anyway i hate myself

  
_bambi-slapstickpunkdandy asks:_   
_Oh wow. For the TYO kink pairing challenge, my darlings RickxNeil - S &M, power play, physical play, maybe a bit of slapping and punching, hurt/comfort :)_

* * *

Neil had felt very awkward at first. He had agreed to let Rick handcuff him to the bed and blindfold him, and for the first few moments, his blush was from embarrassment- he was erect, but he was simply sprawled out, waiting for Rick. He swore he could feel his eyes scan over his body, which only made him feel more humiliated. However, Rick’s hands were suddenly on him. He shivered at the touch, but welcomed it. His lips were back on his and Neil couldn’t help but hum into it. Rick was a great kisser, and being touched and embraced by him was all the better. He felt Rick straddle him, his legs locked around his sides and his weight pressing fully on top of him. Rick’s lips were back on him again, this time going down his neck and collarbones, leaving bite marks and hickies where he went as Neil moaned softly underneath him. His hands strained to touch him back, but the handcuffs made it practically impossible. He whined, but when Rick started sucking on his nipple, it became a gasp. Rick’s hands trailed down his sides, outlining his torso and waist and letting his hands trace around his pelvis and inch their way towards his cock. And then, his hands were there, stroking him languidly and fully. Neil bucked into his hand and moaned, biting his lip as the blush across his face and down his chest deepened. It wasn’t long before the hands left him, only to find their way to Neil’s legs. He draped them over his shoulders, lifting his lower back into the air. Two very lubricated fingers were on the rim of his ass, preparing him, and suddenly, Rick thrusted deep inside him. Neil nearly shouted, gripping at the handcuffs and arching his back. Rick took him slowly at first, but picked up speed soon enough. This was intense- Rick pounded into him like he needed him more than air as Neil writhed underneath him, panting hard. He felt tears sting his eyes underneath the blindfold. He wasn’t normally loud in bed, but with Rick’s relentless motions, he could help but moan, gasp and yell. Rick held Neil’s hips, hard, leaving half-moons into his skin deep enough for Neil to feel the pinch of his nails on top of everything else he felt. A few tiny dots of blood sprung on his hips as Rick thrusted harder, faster. Neil could tell Rick wasn’t going to last long- neither was he, but Rick’s fervid grapple for power was so prominent in everything he did that getting this much control over Neil made for a swift climax. With a few more full, throbbing pushes inside of him, Rick came, hard, collapsing on top of Neil and letting himself drop. He breathed hard on top of Neil for a long time before speaking.

“Did, did you…?”

“Well, no, but it’s okay-“ Neil was suddenly cut off with soft kisses trailing down his body. He bit his lip as Rick made his way to his inner thighs, then up. He placed a long, gliding lick on the underside of Neil’s cock. He gasped and rolled his hips as Rick slide his member into his mouth. He started to suck and hummed around him as Neil began to thrust into Rick. He grasped for purchase on the handcuffs as his toes curled and he panted. With only a few more hard movements and glides of his tongue, Neil came in his mouth. Rick swallowed, then wiped off the bit that dribbled onto his chin. He kissed back up Neil, then unlocked him from the handcuffs and removed his blindfold. He kissed his wrists, then kissed his lips, stroking his cheeks and ruffling his long hair in his hand. He gently pulled Neil down with him into a spoon, embracing him gently and putting his lips everywhere he could, muttering how beautiful and perfect Neil was. Neil was too tired to respond, but he smiled and stroked the hands around him. They fell asleep before long, exhausted, but content with the evening.


	4. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's jealous of Mike and Vyvyan and is going to bloody well do something about it or die trying !  
> pre-relationship shenani-banana-gans

  
_whistlinginthedark asks:_   
__Vyv/Rick. Rick gets jealous of Vyv and Mike not even realising it's just a bromance.  
_ _

* * *

“That’s a good one, Vyv! He’s only improvising, but Shakespeare could’ve written the script!” Mike said as he clapped Vyvyan on the back. Vyvyan smiled up at the other man, that genuine, gorgeous smile that made Rick’s pulse race as he watched the scene from the couch. He crossed his arms, turning around and scowling at the television. Boisterous laughter and more loud shoulder pats echoed in his ears, drowning out the sounds of Nosin’ Around. As if this absolutely ridiculous crush of his hadn’t gotten out of hand enough, now he had to deal with Vyvyan and Mike so _obviously_ flirting with each other, it was making him sick to his stomach. Ruddy Mike! He had enough girlfriends, probably, did he _really_ have to come on to Vyvyan too?

Rick knew he was gay from when he was an adolescent, his first kiss that mattered being with one of the most attractive boys in the secondary school poetry society, and realizing he couldn’t ever go back to girls’ lips on his. Sure, the kiss was due to a dare, and he had to pretend like he didn’t enjoy it, but he really did, and after enough turmoil inside of himself, he realized, yes, he was definitely and absolutely homosexual. He hadn’t kissed a boy since that day, but he knew.

And then along came Vyvyan and a fire that burned hot in Rick’s chest as soon as he saw that stupidly attractive ball of energy move into the share house. He didn’t even know if Vyvyan liked boys. At least, he wasn’t sure until him and Mike hit it off right away. Now all Rick could think about was Mike swooping in on _his_ infatuation, and Vyvyan letting it happen, and the two of them holding hands, and kissing, and laughing, laughing! That laughter was poison in Rick’s ears. He wanted to be the one laughing with Vyvyan and clapping him on the back and sharing a romance. Not that Vyvyan would be into any of that, anyway. Vyvyan probably hated the idea of it all, but it was nice to dream. At least it took his mind off of the two men behind him. He sat, grimacing at the television until Mike went upstairs and left Rick and Vyvyan alone on the first floor.

Rick got brave. Or stupid. But what’s the difference?

He stood up from the couch and fumed at Vyvyan, sitting at the table and staring back at him with a slight unease in his eyes. They stared at each other, Vyvyan shifting uncomfortably in his chair, drumming the sides of it with his fingers. Rick balled his fists as he stomped over to Vyvyan, and before Vyvyan could get in a word of protest, Rick grabbed him by the lapels of his denim vest and brought his lips to Vyvyan’s. He kissed him, hard, almost violently, but the way Vyvyan melted in his mouth was making Rick start to consider why he hadn’t done this any sooner. He pulled himself off of Vyvyan, setting him back down on his chair and standing over him. Vyvyan looked back up at him, his eyes pale, wide and the flush across his cheeks flaming red.

“W-What was that for?!” He asked, alarmed.

“Stop flirting with Mike!” Rick said back, his arms crossed again. However, a mischievous smile broke out onto Vyvyan’s face as he stood up and walked towards Rick. He grabbed Rick’s shirt and pulled him back, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, licking his lips and staring at him with a gaze so lustful it made Rick’s knees go weak.

“I wasn’t.” Was all he said before taking Rick back onto his lips.


	5. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vyvyan gets a night terror and things get tense between him and Rick

  
_whistlinginthedark asks:_   
__Rivyan. “Why are you in my bed?”_   
_

* * *

Something poked his face, but he ignored it and kept his eyes closed. Whatever time it was, it was far too early to be awoken.

And then something poked his face again. He continued to ignore it.

By the third time the something poked his face, he grabbed what it was- a hand- and his eyes shot open. He was faced with a very confused and very scared Rick inches away from him, staring back with wide, pale blue eyes.

“Stop poking me!” Vyvyan shouted. Rick winced.

“B-But I-“

“And what are you doing in my bed?!” Rick shrunk back and balled the sheets in his hands. He said something inaudible. “Speak up, girlie!”

“I-I… It’s not your bed.” Rick said, keeping his eyes down at the covers. Briefly, Vyvyan thought about how he looked like a lost boy, almost irresistibly adorable, but he took the inkling out of his head. Instead, he propped himself up on his elbows and glanced around the room, taking it in and realizing it was, in fact, not his, and furthermore, this was not his bed. Vyvyan reddened as he remembered the night before.

It wasn’t often Vyvyan had these nightly episodes. He had them on a routine basis when he was a child, but they managed to disappear in adolescence. Why he had one last night, he didn’t know. When he did, they were horrible, spine-tingling, and panic inducing.

He looked back to Rick, yearning for some sort of explanation. Rick took a deep breath and played with a loose thread on his duvet.

“Y-You were screaming, Vyvyan. Not like your normal screaming. It sounded like you were getting murdered, o-or something. I heard it from my room, so I went into yours, a-and you were asleep, but you were shaking and just, screaming.” He took another breath. “…Have you ever had a night terror?” Vyvyan laid back on the pillow.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“W-Well… My brother had them when we were growing up. I think you have them too.”

“You have a brother?”

“Younger. He’d do the same thing, y’know? The shaking, and the screaming. He’d sit up in bed and just scream until I came in. I’d wake him up and carry him to my bed and comfort him. I didn’t carry you, but… I kinda figured I’d do the same.” As he talked, Vyvyan noticed a blush running across his cheeks, but didn’t mention it. He continued to look at Rick, trying to piece together the events of last night. He did remember waking up, and Rick being there. He remembered holding him and Rick taking him back to his room. He remembered trembling, god, the trembling. He remembered shaking as Rick stroked his hair back and held him when he wept. He remembered lips pressed to his forehead as he buried himself into Rick’s chest, exhausted, and fell back asleep with the comfort of Rick around him. He remembered all of it.

Vyvyan got out of Rick’s bed, walking on legs that felt hollow over to his door, opening it and beginning to walk out of the room.

“Thanks.” He walked into the hallway and shut the door, leaving Rick alone, needing to deal with his own feelings. He let someone see him vulnerable, and that was worse than any night terror.


	6. Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rick has far more sexual experience compared to Vyvyan

  
_caffeineculprit asks:_   
_rivyan, trembling hands!_   


* * *

His heart was pounding hard in his chest as he expelled a shaking breath, near petrified about what was happening. He wanted it to happen, that was for sure, but it was just so new, and scary, and it felt great, but he was so nervous he almost wanted to puke.

“Do you want me to stop?” Rick asked. He was so bloody confident it was irritating. He’d obviously done this before, but they hadn’t done anything but snog. Rick was being rather patient throughout all of this, which Vyvyan really appreciated, but it was just, intense. The emotions bubbling in his chest and the sweat building on his forehead, thinking about what would come after snogging was really starting to get to him. Rick kept his hands on the lapels of his denim vest. He was about to take it off, both of them knew that, but Rick picked up something was wrong. His whole body felt stiff and his balled fists began to tremble as he looked everywhere but at his infatuation. This really was not how their first time, his first time, was supposed to go. Rick sighed softly. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.” Vyvyan kept his lips pursed before letting go another breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Y-Yeah. Stop.” He said, only slightly shaking his head. Rick tugged the vest back on him, putting his palms flat on his clothed chest and leaning against him.

“That’s just fine.” He said softly, just wanting to ground him again. He didn’t realize Vyvyan was going to be so nervous about this, but he could understand it. He had been around the block a few times, and Vyvyan hadn’t. And that was okay. He still felt him shaking against him. Rick wrapped his arms around him while Vyvyan continued to stand, terrified.

“I-I’m sorry.” He uttered out softly. Rick reached a hand up to stroke the hairs along the nape of his neck- the ones he always seemed to miss when he was gelling up his hair in the morning.

“There’s no reason to apologize.” Rick whispered. “We’ll try again when we’re ready. Whenever that may be.” He got up on his tiptoes to kiss his chin and tried to give him a small, reassuring smile. “I don’t mind. I just want you to be okay.”

Vyvyan wrapped his arms back around Rick. His hands still trembled, but it was easier knowing someone was there for him. Rick was a constant, and that was okay.


	7. Too Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has a panic attack. Vyvyan knows what to do.

  
_slimeuniversity asks:_   
_rivyan + too loud_   


* * *

It was always how Rick’s panic attacks started. In reality, it wasn’t loud, but his hypersensitivity spiked, and everything got to a booming volume. The crinkle of Mike’s newspaper pages thundered in his ears, the normally faint sounds of Neil’s droning was like he was yelling, Vyvyan’s boots colliding with the stairs were even more stentorian.

It was often he had panic attacks, but they came like clockwork. When they came, Rick always knew what was going to happen, and often, he tried in vain to try to cut them shorter or make them stop entirely, but it was useless, and the more he tried, the more anxious he got, the more panicked he became, the longer the attack was.

Vyvyan figured out some sort of procedure for when Rick went through them. Sometimes he didn’t want to be touched or anything, just let it ride out. When they were really bad, that’s when he needed the comfort. Vyvyan didn’t have much of a bedside manner, but the least he could do was try. For Rick.

When he put his head between his legs in the middle of them watching the telly and put his hands up to his ears, Vyvyan immediately knew. Rick breathing started to quicken.

“One or two?” They worked this out- one was just a passing thing. Two was a bad attack. Rick held up two fingers against the side of his head. Vyvyan turned off the television- thankfully, Mike and Neil weren’t around, so nothing else would be deafening for Rick. Vyvyan rubbed his back as Rick rocked softly, and the procedure began, just as the attack did. Just like clockwork.


	8. Filthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vyvyan comes home from a party and he's a mess! Like hell Rick's letting him get into bed with him like that.

_slimeuniversity asks:_   
_rivyan + filthy_

* * *

Vyvyan came home from the party caked in mud, a little vomit, and alcohol. Rick was still up, waiting for him to get back safely into the share house. He stood up, still in his bathrobe as Vyvyan stumbled in.

“Oh, for Cliff’s sakes, Vyvyan! You’re filthy!” Vyvyan weakly held up two fingers at him before starting to make his way up the stairs, presumably to their bed. “Oh no you don’t, young man! To the bathroom!” Vyvyan didn’t have much to add besides a grimace. Rick made sure he didn’t fall on the stairs, then into the bathroom they went as Rick began to draw a bath. During this time, Vyvyan was propped up against the sink, watching Rick work before letting his eyes close and falling quickly into a deep sleep. Rick shook his head.

He was a lot harder to undress when he was completely passed out, but Rick did it, and that was a triumph all on it’s own. Getting Vyvyan into the bath was even more difficult, but after a long struggle, he finally got him up right, in the tub. Rick couldn’t believe he was still dead asleep after all of that, but Vyvyan was full of surprises. Rick washed his hair, his chest, his legs, his arms, his body until he actually smelled good for a change. Quite shocking, really, but Vyvyan smelling so nice and so soapy, he was hard to resist. But he was deadweight, at the moment. In the morning, after he did something about his hangover, maybe, but for now, there wasn’t much to do. Rick unplugged the tub, then dried off Vyvyan while he was in the bath still, leaned in like it was a mattress. Unsure of what else to do, Rick got a pillow and a blanket from Vyvyan’s old bed (they were sharing Rick’s now), put the pillow under his head and draped the blanket over him. He kissed his forehead as a small goodnight, and hoped nobody had to use the bathroom until the morning.


	9. Silent Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anatomy of Vyvyan's anger

  
_introducingsparks asks:_   
__rick/vyvyan, silent fury_   
_

* * *

When Vyvyan was vexed, it was a different reaction altogether. A sort of, seething, taciturn anger. When Vyvyan was just annoyed, that’s when he would have his outbursts- if people didn’t know him, they could confuse it for anger.

Vyvyan liked to think of himself as an engine- he ran hot. His emotions felt hot. He never felt anything half-heartedly, but with passion. Even his boredom was with a flame under it. But anger, anger was different. Anger was cold. It froze over him like water, and he shut himself off. He was ice to everybody. There wasn’t a bubbling rage inside of him. It was just, cold. Anger was empty, for him. It was silent, but it was definitely a fury. God help anybody who crossed him when he was mad.

It took a lot to get him to the point of pure rage, but when he got there, it was often a point of no return. At least for a while. Things would go back to normal and it was never mentioned, but people walked around him like he was a landmine.

But he preferred it like that. It was good to be alone with his thoughts for however long everyone avoided him.


	10. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transgender male!Rick and asshole Vyvyan

_introducingsparks asks:_  
_undone, rick/vyvyan  
_

* * *

Rick had scanned over the definition time and time again, but the third entry was what made the most sense: “Defeated or destroyed, ruined by a disastrous or devastating setback or reversal.” And maybe that was the only way to describe what happened to them.

They’d been dating for two months. Vyvyan was getting annoyed at the lack of “action”- they hadn’t done -it- since they began this escapade, and one day, Vyvyan was just, fed up. And then Rick had to tell him that he didn’t exactly have a dick. He didn’t have any breasts either- he got those off long ago, but he just hadn’t gotten enough money for the surgery yet. They hadn’t had any sex because Rick didn’t want Vyvyan to know. He wouldn’t let him touch him below the belt, and that was what really pissed Vyvyan off.

He really should’ve known all he would’ve wanted was sex, in the end. He should’ve known Vyvyan wasn’t ever going to be satisfied without a real man, with a real penis, and a real chest, and, and, fuck. Fucking hell. He should’ve known this wasn’t going to last. Vyvyan was superficial, anyway. He wasn’t too fond of going on deeper levels to improve their relationship. He really wasn’t too fond of Rick not having “man parts” either. He said he was gay, he couldn’t have sex with that, thing. And that’s exactly what Rick feared.

Vyvyan stormed off a few hours ago. Rick knew he’d be back, but the marvelous thing they started was now at a very abrupt, sudden end.

Undone. That was what they had become.


	11. Midafternoon Delight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumb boys being dumb and affectionate i love them

  
_smallsteak asks:_   
_Bro that cute gay shit_   


* * *

Vyvyan was at his desk, half-studying and half-bothering-Rick, while his boyfriend sat upside down on his bed, leaning over the side of it, head down, making his face more red than usual and his hair fall towards the floor.

“Vyvyan?” Rick asked, poking his thigh. Vyvyan’s room was small enough for his chair to only be arms length from the bed.

“What?” He responded, not looking up from the horribly boring diagram of a colon.

“Why don’t we ever do anything couples do?” He asked, lacing his fingers over his chest. Vyvyan continued reading.

“Is making out until Mike and Neil leave the room and having a shag every night not enough?” Vyvyan asked, biting his lip and soon remembering the events of the night before. Truly spectacular, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t what Rick was getting at.

“I mean-“ Rick started, sitting up and turning himself over, propping up on his elbows and tutting. “It’s nice. Well, pretty great, actually. But-“

“Yeah. Point made.” Vyvyan said. Rick scoffed and threw the recently used bottle of lube they kept on their shared nightstand at him. It hit him in the head, which made him turn around, a little angry, but softening slightly, looking at Rick’s face. It was almost hurt.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said softly, sticking his lip out a bit. “Like, holding hands, and going on dates, and… And… Well, I don’t really know what else. But you’ve been in relationships before, so you should know.” Vyvyan sighed in defeat.

“But it’s poofy.” He said, trying to make an excuse.

“And this isn’t?” Rick asked, picking up the bottle of lube from the floor and giving Vyvyan a knowing look, a hint of a smile showing through. Vyvyan laughed half-heartedly and started taking off his shoes. Rick looked down at his feet, then back up at his face. Vyvyan got up from his chair and sat down on the bed, taking Rick in his arms and lying down with him. Rick squirmed in his grasp. “Vyv, I need a rest after last night.” He whined.

“I know. That’s what we’re doing.” Vyvyan said, rolling over Rick on their shared, tiny bed. “But you’re the one who wanted to do this, so you’re spooning me.” He said, almost defiantly. Rick bit his lip and nearly gasped in joy.

“Y-You’re… W-We’re…! You’re letting me cuddle you!” Rick exclaimed. This was certainly new- Rick had never spooned Vyvyan, or, really, ever touched him like this, being in the so-called dominant position.

“We’re not cuddling!” Vyvyan retorted. “You’re just… We’re… Yeah.” He gave up and settled into bed. It was a bit odd, being in bed with Rick and with clothes on, but he supposed they could enjoy it for a while. Rick put his arm over Vyvyan and kissed the base of his neck, nuzzling against his warmth and sighing happily.

“Does this mean I’m taking you on a date tonight, too?” Vyvyan perked up.

“I hadn’t thought about that. But now that you mention it, yes.” He said, a small yawn escaping his lips. “I want to go to the best restaurant in London.” He continued, sleep seeping into his voice. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, but Rick’s warm body wasn’t helping either.

“Best restaurant in London it is.” Rick said back, eyes half lidded as he kissed Vyvyan’s neck again. “Scumbag canteen?” He asked softly.

“Scumbag canteen.” Vyvyan nodded, settling fully into Rick. He dozed off quickly, but Rick kept awake, savoring being able to cuddle his boyfriend, if only for a little bit.


	12. The Winter Palace/Pillow Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vyvyan's making a pillow fort and uses Rick's interests to help him build it

  
_Anonymous asks:_   
__"Let's make a pillow fort. It'll be great." Rik and Vyv <3_   
_

* * *

“Rick, I WILL smash your skull in if you don’t help me!” Vyvyan said, a blanket over his shoulder as he started arranging the couch cushions.

“Well, I refuse to support this militarist propaganda! The act of making a _pillow_ _fort_ ; who are you protecting yourself from? The working class’s revolt?” Rick responded sarcastically. He had been watching Vyvyan for a while, and, as much as he hated to admit it, the fort did look pretty good for what it was. Sure, there was a little more work to be done, but overall, it was _nice._ But Vyvyan had been trying for _ever_ to get Rick to help him build a pillow fort. He always had some excuse up his sleeve, but his last comment gave him an idea.

“Yes, actually.” He replied with a small shrug. This got Rick’s attention.

“What?”

“The working class’s revolt, of course.” Vyvyan said, his I’ve-just-kicked-a-wall-in smile slowly growing on his face. “It is 1917, after all. How else will I protect my… Decadent, bourgeois family?” He asked, trying to hint to Rick his drift, and from the looks of it, he was picking it up. Vyvyan really knew how to push his boyfriend’s buttons- since they started dating a few months back, it had gotten easier and easier to do. Rick’s leg was bouncing, a sure sign of his excitement, and his eyes seemed to light up when Vyvyan looked over to him.

“Where are we, exactly?” Rick asked.

“Russia, pre-Soviet Union, ‘course.” Rick bit his lip and practically sprung off of the rickety chair he was sitting in. He immediately grabbed pillows from the stack Vyvyan had stolen from everyone’s rooms, starting to shape them into the fort. Rick leant over and kissed Vyvyan’s cheek at one point- he knew exactly what game Vyvyan was playing, but it was sweet anyway, and it was more fun than than he would’ve thought. When they had finally finished, they stood back to admire their work, Rick’s arms loosely crossed and one of Vyvyan’s holding Rick by the hip, keeping him close. After a few moments of quiet, Rick snorted.

“Well, that was a very adult activity.” He said, gazing up at Vyvyan.

“I know of some very adult activities we could do with the fort.” Vyvyan said, biting his lip.

“We are _not_ having sex in the pillow fort!” Rick scoffed. All Vyvyan had to do was think for a minute.

“But, what if this is the last time?”

“Vyvyan, this isn’t going to be the last time we ever-“

“But the bolsheviks!” Vyvyan played up. “What if they come?” He asked, giving Rick his most charming smile. Rick thought for a few moments, putting together his thoughts and eventually rolling his eyes.

“I suppose Tsar Nicholas the II has one more round left in him.” Rick said, eventually giving in to Vyvyan’s request. He smiled before escorting him inside the fort, and for a few moments, it was quiet, save for the sound of rustling clothes and kisses gradually getting hotter and wetter, until…

“Wait!” Vyvyan said from inside.

“What?” Rick asked back.

“ _I_ wanna be Tsar Nicholas!”


	13. Giggles

  
_Anonymous asks:_  
_“You’re ticklish.” Vyv and Rick pretty please!_  


* * *

There weren’t times when they weren’t touching. There just wasn’t- it could be something as simple as holding hands or Vyvyan putting his legs up on Rick’s lap when they were watching the telly, but they were always touching. So it wasn’t long before Vyvyan found out how ticklish Rick was.

It was after they had “gone to bed”, code for doing anything but sleeping, and Vyvyan had gone exploring Rick’s delicate, lithe torso. From above him, little moans and whimpers sounding above him. There was a time Vyvyan would’ve knocked Rick out just for speaking, but now he couldn’t get enough of those lovely noises. Until an unexpected one came out. Vyvyan’s fingertips brushed along Rick’s sides, feeling his ribs, and he laughed and quickly grabbed Vyvyan’s hands.

“What was that?” Vyvyan asked, an amused smile on his face.

“Nothing, I-“

“You giggled!”

“I didn’t _giggle,_ Vyvyan!”

“You’re like a little school girl!”

“Shut up!” Rick exclaimed, and Vyvyan did shut up, but he also started tickling Rick, albeit more violently than one normally would. Rick gasped and panted like a fish out of water between breathless shouts and bouts of laughter. “This is horrible foreplay!” Rick managed to yell at Vyvyan, but Vyvyan was completely ignoring Rick’s protest- it was far too fun watching him squirm and writhe underneath him. Eventually, the tickling was interlaced with multiple kisses, slowing down and getting more passionate, and Vyvyan was thinking they could resume where they left off. Rick’s chest still rose and fell hard, until it eventually slowed down, Vyvyan continuing to kiss him more softly. And then Vyvyan heard snoring. He looked up at Rick, sleeping soundly, probably tired from being painfully tickled. Vyvyan sighed, shaking his head, then putting the covers over Rick and himself. He’d get some for of revenge in the morning, but for now, it was enough to hold him through the night.


	14. Shoebox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPG passes away and Rick supports Vyvyan

_Anonymous asks:_  
_“I don’t like it when you cry.”, rick + vyv  
_

* * *

“Hey, none of that.” Rick cooed softly, holding Vyvyan tight and stroking his back. “He’s in a better place now.” Vyvyan wiped his nose and shook his head.

“You don’t even believe in God.” Vyvyan responded, holding the old shoe box to his chest. “He wouldn’t have wanted to go to a better place anyway.” He said, scowling as more tears cascaded down his cheeks. Rick pursed his lips. He would’ve never guessed Vyvyan was so fond of SPG, and now that he was gone- he had never seen Vyvyan cry, and really didn’t know how to help or what to do about it. At a loss for words, both of them stared at the small plot Neil dug in the garden just for this ceremony. And Rick was luck to be here anyway- Vyvyan didn’t want anybody at SPG’s funeral. He supposed dating him got him special privileges. Rick sighed.

“W-Well… He’s… There’s probably a… A little pub. A little, hamster-sized pub, in, uh, hell. Just for him.” He really didn’t know how to make Vyvyan feel better. He’d never had to make Vyvyan feel better in the tender way sadness asked for. He watched a tear land on the Doc Martens shoe box and winced.

“Y’think?” Vyvyan asked, staring down at the box. Rick felt his heart pick up, even if just for a moment- maybe he was getting somewhere.

“Definitely.” Rick quickly agreed. “Ah… A really, dirty, grimy pub. One with lots of fights, and drinking, and… Lots of… Hay… And lentils.” He said with a air of finality.

“Yeah.” Vyvyan weakly replied. He sighed and bent down, putting the box in the ground and starting to cover it with dirt. Rick got on his level and started putting dirt over the box as well. Eventually, it was covered completely. Vyvyan pulled a weed up from the grass and put it over the plot, looking sadly at it for a long moment. “Thanks, Rick.” He said, probably only saying it out of feeling like he needed to, but nonetheless, it made Rick’s heart flutter a bit.

“Sure thing, Vyv.” He said softly, rubbing his back. “Sure thing.”


	15. A Poet's Guide to Impressing Punks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick wants to get Vyvyan's attention at a party. Who better to ask for advice then the meanest, scariest looking punks he can find?

  
_Anonymous asks:_   
__hey hey buddy my pal if u r still taking requests could u pls do a little fic thing where Vyv's punk friends pick on Rick n fr some reason Vyv gets pissed af cos Rick is his lil sunshine (but shhhh no one KNOWS). also ily a lot & ur proper cool xxx_   
_

* * *

Yet another party over at the share house, and lately, Rick wasn’t enjoying them as much as he usually did. Yeah, there was an excess of alcohol and usually tolerable music, but ever since he realized his feelings for Vyvyan, he really just wanted to spend more time with him. Hell, Vyvyan could be beating him up for some reason he’d never know, but it was more than worth it to feel his warm hands on him. Parties separated them- he could see Vyvyan frantically slam dancing in the middle of the living room with some of the kids from his grade. He was like a bull in a china shop, but even his reckless behavior attracted Rick.

So he sat on the stairs, one hand holding his head as he day dreamed about Vyvyan, hopelessly lovesick, until he spotted a group of punks chatting up just below the staircase. They had to be Vyvyan’s friends, and maybe Rick could set an impression on Vyvyan if he was hanging out with them! Vyvyan would see he wasn’t a square! Rick was definitely cool enough for these guys! With a newfound vigor in his step, he got up from the stairs, adjusted his pigtails, and made his way down. As he came into the group, a sinking feeling landed in his gut- compared to the black, tough leather of their jackets, Rick looked absolutely out of place in his cheery, yellow dungarees. However, determination coursed through him- he had to show Vyvyan he could be cool too! He cleared his throat, causing a few of the punks to give him a curious side eye.

“Ah, hello!” He said, a nervous smile on his face. The punks tried to go back to their conversation. “What’s happening with the scene?” He said, putting out the coolest looks he could. One of them snorted at him.

“Look at the li'l toothpick over here.” He said, his accent thick and reeking of lower class.

“What fuckin’ toothpick ‘ave you seen that’s yellow?” Another added. “Naw, ‘e’s more of a… A daffodil.” He said with a firm grunt and a nod of his head.

“Aha…” Rick forced out, trying to make light of the situation. Maybe this was how they got to know someone. “Are we all having a good time?” He asked, desperate to change the topic from his likeness to a flower.

“Bucket!” Called out another punk. From the crowd of the party, a freakishly large man with metal sticking out of practically every place on his head looked towards the group and began to stomp over. Rick’s knees trembled- there was a reason he hung with the Revolutionary Poet’s Brigade and not these people. Bucket was soon face to face with Rick as he tried smile and wave in a manner that wasn’t pained.

“You call me over to look at a fuckin’ daffodil?” Bucket asked, and immediately the punks began to hoot and holler. Rick backed up against the staircase, but there wasn’t any escape from the punks, who only seemed to close in on him further.

“H-Hello, Bucket.” He said, extending out a trembling hand. “M-My name i-is W-Wick.” He continued, his speech impediment obvious and exacerbated through his nervousness. The group immediately started whooping it up.

“Listen to that stutter!” One guffawed over the loud clinking of various safety pins and metal accessories on his leather jacket.

“M-M-My n-n-n-name’s W-W-W-Wick!” The cockney one imitated. “I n-n-never werned 'ow to speak!” He continued, getting slaps on the back from his mates. Rick had never felt more embarrassed or more upset in his life. He swallowed, feeling much like a cornered animal as more taunts came out of the group. Eventually, one pushed him, trying to egg him on for a rise, and the rest joined, save for Bucket, who seemed to get plenty of enjoyment just watching the abuse.

“T-This is my house, and my party! I-I can kick you out!” Rick threatened, but that only got more laughs from the crew.

“Hey!” Shouted a booming voice from the living room. “Stop it!” Said the voice again, this time with an added grunting from pushing people out of his way. There was just enough space between the punks’ heads to see the source of the shouting. Rick wouldn’t have ever been able to see himself describing Vyvyan as angelic, but everything about the scene was perfect. It felt like the world was in slow motion- the light from the ceiling perfectly cascaded across his face, almost giving him a glow from the speckling of sweat on his forehead. His mouth and eyebrows were scrunched in a scowl, however. Even in his beautiful vision, it was obvious Vyvyan was mad. Bucket turned around, and while he easily towered over him, Vyvyan stood his ground.

“Vyvyan.” Bucket snarled.

“Bucket.” Vyvyan spat back. “Don’t you have better things to do besides pick on poofs?”

“I’m not-!” Rick started, but was immediately silenced with a glare from Vyvyan.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Bucket asked, calm, cool, collected.

“Cos if you wanna tussle with him, you’re gonna tussle with me, and you remember the last time, yeah? I don’t need to remind you of it, do I?” He said, keeping Bucket’s same calmness and collectivity. Bucket shifted uneasily on his feet, as if weighing his options on either foot, looking down and deciding.

“Piss off, guys. We’ll find a better riot.” He said, heading towards the door and flashing the V’s at Vyvyan. Vyvyan flashed them back before turning to Rick.

“The hell were you thinking?” He asked, confronting him, but Rick took a shakey breath instead and sighed. He felt like he could cry, and he really didn’t feel like answering to Vyvyan at the moment. Instead, he held himself in his arms and looked down at the floor to avoid his piercing blue eyes. Vyvyan took a long moment before putting a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “They didn’t rough you up too bad, yeah?” He asked, getting close to him. Rick shook his head. “Good. Only I get to rough you up.” He said with a smile, trying to get Rick to laugh, or at least stop looking so sorry for himself. “Well, you wanna talk about it or are you just gonna sulk all night?” Rick looked up at Vyvyan finally, his eyes watery, trying to find words, but he didn’t need them for Vyvyan to know. For as hard and tough as he could be, Vyvyan knew doctors had to have a bedside manner. No better place to practice. “C'mon, poof.” He said, taking Rick’s hand in his, intertwining his fingers and starting for the stairs. Rick gasped, but let himself be pulled along.

“W-Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private!” Vyvyan said, his same confidence never failing to show through. “I’m making you feel better whether you like it or not!”

Needless to say, the two boys missed the rest of the party, but Vyvyan’s “bedside manner” was definitely worth it.


	16. I've Been Ghosting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick passed away and Vyvyan has to find some sort of closure when there wasn't any to begin with  
> \------  
> okay so. this is actually 3000x sadder than i meant it to be and its mainly about closure and oops
> 
> also put in my own headcannons bc im a garbage man with a garbage plan. italics are memories and regular text is real time of the story

 

  
_Anonymous asks:_  
_Could you do a bittersweet Ghost Rick fic where Vyv misses him terribly and so do Neil and Mike? They all take care of his whiny yet endearing poor little lost soul trapped in a dumpy house. You're my guy!_

* * *

_“Vyvyan, it’s very important that you pray.” He remembers her telling him. He’s six years old and isn’t ready to question the authority of his mother, so he doesn’t. “Now watch Mummy and do as I do.” She gets on her knees, her elbows resting on the couch that was haphazardly made into Vyvyan’s bed when he was too old to sleep in her room. She puts her hands together and closes her eyes, and Vyvyan copies. He’s too short and his elbows are racked high above his shoulders, but the preacher every Sunday made it clear that God wants you to hurt for your sins. Maybe this is part of it. “What do you want to pray for?” She asks, and Vyvyan shrugs as much as he can._

_“I don’t know what God can do for me.”_

_“God can do anything.”_

_“Can we get a new radio if we pray hard enough?” She sighs and lets out the breathless laugh of weariness and affection that only a mother could._

_“He’s not Saint Nicholas, Vyv. We pray for things that help others. We can pray for our neighbors to be able to pay the rent, or for Grandmum’s cough to get better, those kind of things. I’ll start, okay?” Vyvyan nods and his mother takes a deep breath. “Dear God,”_

_“Dear God,” Vyvyan obediently repeats._

_“We thank you for blessing us with all the good in our lives and all the good in those around us.” She says, and Vyvyan says it back. “We wish for that same goodness to extend to those who have lost their paths in life, and to be brought back to the light of God.” Vyvyan stumbles in trying to regurgitate it, but eventually gets it. “Please let my mum’s sickness leave, and let her live a long, prosperous time here before going to Heaven. She still needs to see me walk down the aisle.” She says, a little smile on her face as if sharing an inside joke with Him, then turns to Vyvyan. “Now you pray for something.” Put on the spot, Vyvyan struggles to put something together to satisfy his mother._

_“Uh, please, God, don’t… Don’t let any of my friends go to Hell. I like them.” He says, and looks to his mother for validation. She gives him a thin smile._

_“Father Philip’s sermon last week got to you, didn’t it?” Vyvyan nods, almost ashamed. “He just says that for the sinners. We’ll be okay.” She says, then closes her eyes and clasps her hands back together._

_“Amen.”_

_“Amen.” Vyvyan says, and smiles at her. She ruffles his strawberry blonde hair affectionately, kisses his forehead and tucks him into bed. When she retires to her room, she prays again for Vyvyan’s father to return from wherever he ran off to. He wasn’t the best husband, but they needed a breadwinner, desperately, and she wasn’t about to let humility get the best of her by succumbing to getting a job. That wasn’t what a proper lady should do._

Vyvyan hasn’t prayed in ten years. He stopped when he was nine and his grandmother died and came to the conclusion that there was no God cruel enough to take the last bit of life left in his mother. She depended a lot on her, and when she was taken, Vyvyan’s mother didn’t have much else to keep appearances up for. She lost the job she had, she drank away their savings, she took her anger out on Vyvyan- God wouldn’t have let this happen, so he denied the existence of him altogether. He hadn’t had a death in his family that shook him up quite like his grandmother’s departure since then. He hardened up emotionally and refused to let things get to him like that.

But there is always the weak spot in the fortress where enemy lines can bombard and break down the solid rock walls he had spent years building up. A crack where light filters through chalky remains of his emotional castle that makes him just as fragile as the nine year old boy sitting in a black suit watching a casket descend into the ground as his mother sobbed beside him. And what causes him to break is strikingly similar.

He can’t bring himself to watch the sleek black coffin sink into the earth, so instead he looks at the polished granite on Rick’s tombstone, raindrops trickling down it’s lacquered surface, and that almost hurts more. For the two years he spent torturing and traumatizing the bastard, he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself sitting at his funeral, across from his mother and father.

Rick looked nothing like his parents and held none of their demeanor, save for the trademark air of upperclass around him. His mother was blonde, grey-eyed, tall, and remarkably put together for mourning. His father only a few inches taller, with hair dark enough to match his black umbrella. He watched vacantly as his son’s body was lowered six feet deep while his wife held his arm, neatly dabbing her eyes with a tissue and swallowing occasionally. Vyvyan always had a bad taste in his mouth around the decadent elites, like Rick’s family, and maybe that was because he grew up quite the opposite, but that tang was prominent when his eyes drifted over to them and their incredible lack of emotion. What pain, what trauma? No parent should outlive their child, yet here they were, almost as lifeless as the boy currently being shoveled under a mound of dirt.

Vyvyan really hates funerals.

He doesn’t attend the memorial service, much to the debate of Mike and Neil. He tells them that the prick wouldn’t have wanted him there anyway, but truthfully, his heart can’t take much more today. He needs to recover from all this and fight an emotional war of his own, and he starts to sympathize with Rick’s parents. Maybe they weren’t showing the hurt because they couldn’t- it hadn’t sunk in they were never going to see their son again, and for Vyvyan, it was only just beginning to leave a dull ache in his chest. He walks home, having been lifted to the funeral in a limousine the Pratts rented out, fumbles with his keys, but eventually gets inside the share house, soaking wet and utterly alone.

He stands at the front of the main hallway, putting his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and looking around. Another reason he hates funerals- the dress is too stuffy for him, but he’s too empty inside to be feeling much. He unlaces his boots and kicks them off, takes off his coat and leaves it at the door and loosens his tie before running his hands through his hair to get it back to some normalcy. It wasn’t his usual trihawk, but mussing it up after the rain felt better. At least it felt like something.

_“Mum used to be Catholic.” Vyvyan says, a hand on his chest as he looks up to the ceiling, smoking a fag while the one next to him keeps his elbow propped up on the pillow, supporting his head in his hand and watching the redhead next to him intently, as if studying him, trying to pick out the correct words to use in his next poem about him. Vyvyan will never discover the journal Rick keeps of him- it’s too much emotion for just being friends with benefits, if they can even be called friends. But the muse picked him, not the other way around._

_“Another lemming to water in the mass brainwashing plot the church has over people.” Rick says, and he knows he sounds stupid, but he wants to impress Vyvyan. He wants to be worthy to him. He never wants this to stop, and he needs to prove himself no matter what._

_“I used to be Catholic.” He says after taking another drag of his cigarette. Rick immediately deflates while Vyvyan continues to stare at the walls._

_“Oh.” There’s a long silence before Vyvyan feels the need to rebuild Rick’s delicate ego._

_“I don’t think we practiced it right, though. Mum always saw God as loving, and kind, and empathetic. But the sermons in church would always say that God wants you to hurt. God wants you to go to Hell, that he’s vengeful and bitter for what we did to Jesus, y’know?” He stops, and for the first time since he made Rick cum, he’s silent. “I don’t believe in it anymore, but…” He trails off, unsure of where to continue. Rick scoots over to Vyvyan and drapes an arm over his chest, holding him a little closer. Vyvyan usually doesn’t allow this- this is just sex. Cuddling and all that touchy-feely poofy shit crossed the line, but for some reason, tonight, he just needs Rick like this._

_“Kind God isn’t so bad.” Rick says just to say something. Vyvyan can tell, but decides to return this small display of affection and snuffs out his cigarette and pulls Rick closer to him, running his fingers through his hair. He hears and feels Rick gasp and Vyvyan holds his breath until he knows Rick isn’t going to move from his position._

_“Yeah.” He says, and that’s really all that needs to be said right now. But Rick doesn’t know that._

_“This is some pillow talk.” Rick whispers, and Vyvyan can’t help but laugh and give him a swat on the arm. And yet, the thing Vyvyan has tried to prevent most, the breaking down of his walls, the cracking of his decade-long, previously impenetrable infrastructure has started. Rick is burrowing and digging and clawing his way into his heart, and he would do anything and everything to prevent it, but right now, Vyvyan’s too tired to stop it, so he lets the moment be, and falls asleep with Rick nuzzled against his side comfortably._

Vyvyan’s grabbed a full bottle of vodka out of the fridge and has been sucking it down every so often, but he’s already numb, he’s not quite sure why he even has to drink in the first place. He watches the blank television with an even blanker expression, the dull reflection of the horrible, empty house and the horrible, empty man staring back at him. He hasn’t realized he’s been crying yet.

It’s too quiet. He looks at the empty, rickety chair next to the couch, feeling at a loss. It used to be at the dinner table, but Neil always stood up to cook, so there was no reason for it in the kitchen. It moved to the living room, since the couch was too small for the four of them, and it served well for the few years it had. Vyvyan connected with that shit chair- both no longer had a purpose without Rick. At least, that’s what it felt like. The couch was big enough for the remaining three, Neil could sit at the table if he liked without needing a fourth chair. Vyvyan swallowed and momentarily thought about how they could sell it before feeling his heart lurch in his chest. Like hell they could sell it. No, for the remainder of the time the three stayed in the house, so would the chair, sitting in a corner, most likely, gathering dust in some forgotten memory of the fiery anarchist who brought so much life and passion into Vyvyan’s existence. He felt his lip wobble, and for the first time in so many years, he let those walls crumble. Privately- there was no one else here but him, not anymore, and he’s sure if Rick could see him now he’d take the piss out of him, but he can’t stand to care anymore. Vyvyan sobs and wretches and feels the tears falling down his face. It’s too much to bare and too much to keep inside of him, and he cries and cries until he can’t anymore.

A part of him can’t believe that it was a chair that finally broke him down to the shell of a man he is now.

_Rick suggested it, and deep down, there’s a part of Vyvyan that really wants to make him happy, so he complies and convinces himself it’s just to try something different. Usually when they have sex, Rick’s face his pressed into the pillow while Vyvyan’s hands grab at his hips and hoists his ass into the air to fuck him, and both of them are okay with it. It’s always consensual, hard, and fast, but tonight, Rick stopped him before they could get anywhere. So now, Rick lay on his back, his arms above his head as he desperately gasped for more air and rolled his hips down onto Vyvyan as if he couldn’t get enough cock- his cock, and that sends something warm blooming in Vyvyan’s chest. On the surface, Vyvyan wanted to make fun of Rick for looking like a fish out of water like this, but he can’t, because he looks so fucking beautiful right now, red painting his cheeks and trailing down his skinny, pale chest in a blotchy trail, pleasure across his entire face. Vyvyan wants to kiss him so fucking bad, but he can’t- they’ve never kissed before, and they shouldn’t. It’s far easier to fuck a man than make love to him._

_“Pull my hair.” Vyvyan pants, and Rick immediately complies, albeit with limp arms and a weak grasp. “Harder.” Vyvyan says, and Rick tries, but the euphoria he’s feeling is too great to compete with, so Vyvyan decides to give him motivation. He can’t kiss him, but he settles for going down to his neck and latching his teeth into the soft column of flushed flesh. He tastes blood on his tongue as he sucks a massive bruise into his skin, and before he can wonder if he’s gone too far this time, Rick pulls hard on his hair and Vyvyan feels the cum flooding between their stomachs, and it isn’t long before he follows suit._

_He pulls out, and they lay on the bed together, breathing hard, bodies throbbing. Rick is about to make a move to turn to look at Vyvyan, ask him to stay, but his legs are already swung over the side of the bed and he’s putting on his boxers and shirt. He walks out of his bedroom on trembling legs, leaving one final look at Rick, absolutely ruined with pale blue eyes begging him not to leave, and Vyvyan ignores it. They can’t become anything more than this- he’s leaving out of necessity for the both of them._

_It’s selfish, but later in the night, lying in his cold bed and not being able to sleep, he imagines moving far, far away with Rick, away from prying eyes and politicians and anybody trying to stop them from who they are. The thought scares him because he wants it so bad._

Mike and Neil come in, buzzed from the free alcohol at the memorial but not necessarily feeling the usual high mood they’d be in after drinking. It feels cold in the house- there’s an obvious emptiness that leaves them at a loss for words. Neil nearly trips over Vyvyan’s shoes left in the hallway, but the owner of them is nowhere to be seen. Just like Vyvyan to wear Doc Martens at a funeral. Mike puts his hands on his hips and takes a breath in to call for Vyvyan, but Neil nudges him and shakes his head.

“It’s alright, Mike.” Neil says softly, then picks up Vyvyan’s shoes and places them neatly at the side of the staircase. “It’s really hitting him hard.”

“They beat the shit out of each other every day. You’d think he’d almost be glad.” Mike says, a sour expression on his face, and Neil turns to him and gives him a look of disbelief and almost something like pity.

“You don’t know.” Neil says. He turns over to the living room, practically deserted, save for an empty bottle of vodka on the table. He goes into the kitchen and gets out two beers, sets them down on the kitchen table and gestures over for Mike to sit down, and he does, confused, but the draw of alcohol is appealing right now. Anything to numb himself- Rick’s death is hitting them all hard, but somehow, Neil was handling it the best, but that was just Neil. Despite all the talk of wanting to die, all the suicidal thoughts and depression racing through him, he was the anchor in their little, dysfunctional family. Mike sat down and inquisitively looked at Neil while taking a sip of his beer, and Neil sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get a starting question from Mike. “Vyv and Rick, well, uh-”

_“Neil. Neil. Neil!” Rick whispers. It’s the dead of night, and for the first time in a long time, he’s actually gotten to sleep. Until Rick wakes him up with a start._

_“Oh, hi, Rick.” Neil said, supporting himself on his elbows and looking at Rick sleepily. He seemed worried. “What’s wrong? Is the house on fire again?” Rick bit his lip and shook his head, apprehensively rubbing his arm._

_“No.” He said before crossing his legs and sitting down on Neil’s bed. Something told him this was going to be a while. Neil sat up as well, leaning against the headboard and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?”_

_“Sure, Rick.”_

_“You can’t tell anybody. Not even Mike.”_

_“I won’t.”_

_“Okay.” Rick took a deep breath and turned away from Neil, taking a long moment of silence before finally speaking up. “V-Vyvyan and I, we’ve… We’re, ah, I mean, we’re not sleeping together, cos we don’t- he doesn’t stay. So I guess-”_

_“You’re fucking?”_

_“Well that’s a very polite way to put it!” Rick stage-whispered, then caught himself and kept his voice quieter. “I- yeah. We’re fucking.” Neil thought for a moment._

_“You’re remarkably quiet.”_

_“Cos we don’t want anyone to know!” Rick felt his chest tighten up and he released a heavy breath. “I’m sorry, I just- it’s really hard. I- we have a ‘friends-with-benefits’ thing, I suppose. But- fuck, Neil, I think I’m falling in love with him. I don’t know! He’s horrible! He beats me up and calls me names and makes me feel bad, but when we’re alone, it’s- he’s sweet, sometimes; it’s like I’m getting a side of him that nobody knows, and it makes me feel, I don’t know, special, and, I- I want, more, Neil.” He looks over to him and realizes how bloody stupid he sounds, and that Neil’s probably going to tell Mike, and him and Vyvyan are going to be kicked out of the house and it’ll be all his fault, and Vyvyan’s never going to want to sleep with Rick again, and that’ll be it. “I’m sorry, this is stupid I-”_

_“It’s not, Rick.” Neil says, and there’s a palpable moment of relief in Rick. “I mean… I don’t really get it, but… Maybe… You should tell him how you feel? Instead of me? I don’t know what I can do about it.” Neil says, feeling as useless as ever._

_“I don’t know what you can do about it either.” He sighs and nods. “I probably should tell him, huh?”_

_“It’d be a good thing to do, I think.”_

_“Yeah.” Rick agrees. “Sorry to wake you.”_

_“It’s okay. I’ll get back to sleep.” Neil knows he won’t. Rick gets off his bed and starts for the door._

_“Goodnight, Neil. Thanks.”_

_“Goodnight, Rick.”_

Mike’s beer is gone as Neil finishes explaining. Neil hasn’t touched his- he really doesn’t like to drink all that much, unless out of necessity.

“I didn’t know.” Mike agrees, his mouth feeling dry. He pauses, running his finger over the rim of his empty bottle. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

“I couldn’t tell you, Mike. I don’t think Rick would’ve told me if he had, y’know, friends to turn to.”

“Don’t say that.” Mike says with a small grimace. “He had friends.” He responds, but it already sounds weak. “Y’know, the kids at the Trotsky… Group, thing. And… Mr. Morrison…” He trails off, both of them left feeling sadder, more empty. “Us.” Mike says with an air of finality.

“Us.” Neil agrees. The both stay silent, unsure of what to say or if anything should be said. Mike reaches for Neil’s beer, and Neil gives him a nod before Mike takes it and has a swig. “I always thought if any one of us were going to die, it’d be me.”

“Life is full of things we can’t predict.” Mike says. “Like car wrecks.” He continues, a bitterness in his mouth no amount of alcohol can wash out.

“Has the shop gotten back about the Anglia?” Neil says in some poor excuse to maybe change the subject. Mike shakes his head.

“If anyone would’ve heard anything, it’s Vyv.” He says, looking up at the ceiling as if he could see into his room.

_Sometimes they just needed to get out of the house. It was only the third time they did this, but Vyvyan and Rick would drive off to the south side of London to the most secluded back alley they could find to lose themselves to debauchery, if just for a little bit. It was getting harder and harder to draw the line between meaningless sex and real, actual feelings for each other. Vyvyan couldn’t help it- after tonight, after fucking Rick hard against a wall, looking at him covered in a deep red flush, out of breath, lips wet with spit, Vyvyan had to kiss him. So, grabbing on tight to his thighs, Vyvyan quickly looked down at his lips, then kissed him, digging his nails into Rick’s skin as he felt him gasp against him and grab his face to bring Vyvyan closer into it. It was hungry and passionate, and when they both pulled back, Vyvyan swallowed and set Rick down, pulled up his pants and walked to the car. Rick stared at him, panting, confused, until Vyvyan honked the horn, and Rick quickly got himself together and went back to the car with him._

_For the longest time, it was silent, until they were stuck at a red light. Vyvyan gripped the steering wheel, longing to be holding Rick again, and disgusted that he wanted it._

_“So what was that?” Rick said, staring out the window. Not looking at him was the only way he would’ve had the confidence to talk to him like this._

_“What was what?” Vyvyan responded through gritted teeth._

_“Don’t pretend like it didn’t happen. You kissed me.”_

_“No I didn’t.”_

_“Vyvyan, stop.” Rick said, turning to him. “What are we?”_

_“We’re just!” Vyvyan started, then stopped, unsure of what to say. Should he tell him how he felt? Should he take the plunge and let it happen? When was the last time he let himself truly love? Vyvyan furrowed his brow. Not today. “We’re just fucking, Rick. That’s it.” That obviously wasn’t satisfactory enough for him._

_“‘Just fucking’? Just fucking, Vyvyan? You don’t kiss someone like that without feeling something, and… You know what? I’m tired of you playing with my feelings like this! You let me touch you through the night, you kiss me, you fuck me and leave bruises deep in my skin like you’re afraid I’ll disappear if you don’t hold tight enough, and then whenever we’re around Neil or Mike or whenever you let yourself think too hard about all this, you treat me like shit! What are you saying?! For once in your life, be honest with me!”_

_“I don’t have to be honest with you! I just wanted to kiss you, okay?! It doesn’t mean anything!” Vyvyan yells, and Rick shuts up. There’s a long pause before the light turns green where Vyvyan hears Rick sniffle a few times but doesn’t say anything. As Vyvyan starts to move through the intersection, he sees Rick wipe his cheeks and turns to him, maybe to apologize, maybe to just stare and say nothing, but he’s greeted with headlights careening towards him, and the last thing he sees before his head hits the window is Rick’s pale eyes that look too big, that make him look too honest and good, filled with tears, and that’s it. Vyvyan’s knocked out and the impact is strong enough to make a crack in the driver’s side window, but it’s nothing compared to the left side of his car. It’s completely crushed in, having been hit at such a high speed. He woke up in the hospital a day later, and he never saw Rick’s body after that. It must’ve been bad- after all, the funeral was closed casket._

He feels like a bloody schoolgirl, weeping into his pillow, but he can’t stop it no matter how hard he tries, and he’s been trying. He’s tired, his eyes are puffy, and he hurts everywhere. He can’t stop thinking about the last moments he had with Rick and how wrong it all went, how badly he wanted to take it all back. Nobody would ever know the truth of why Rick and Vyvyan were out so late- he told Mike and Neil he was just driving Rick to a poetry reading at a posh pub, and somehow, nobody could really believe that, but nobody suggested differently. The police believed it- they were more concerned with the drunk driver, who was arrested and had to pay for the hospital bills and the damage on their cars, which was a relief off of the students. But when Vyvyan woke up with vacant, sad faces above him, he can still remember the sinking of his heart when he heard Rick didn’t make it.

Why couldn’t he just fucking tell him? People talk about regrets in their life, but Vyvyan feels like he outdoes them all. He loved Rick. He still does, but there’s no one to give that love to anymore. He’s just as empty and cold as when he started all this and he hates himself for it.

He thinks back to when he was a child and his mother made him pray, and right now, it doesn’t quite seem like a bad idea. Rick would’ve hated it, but if it’s any help in any sort of afterlife there may be, he wants to try. He wants to try for the man he loves. He sniffs and wipes his nose before getting off his bed and getting on his knees, putting his hands together like his mother told him and closing his eyes.

“Ah… Hi, God.” He says with a shaky breath, unsure of how to begin anymore. He’s long since rejected religion, but being surrounded by death all day makes his heart ache and he hopes something can come of this. “It’s Vyvyan, incase you don’t know.” He sounds stupid and he’s making himself cringe, but he keeps pushing on. “Um… Alright, look, I- I think I sinned? I, erm, engaged in sodomy, with this utter bastard, quite a few times. I probably shouldn’t say bastard. Sorry.” He sighs and grumbles a bit before continuing. “Right. Uh, h-he’s… He passed away, a few days ago, a-and, I… I really loved him. I still love him. I-I didn’t mean to fall in love with him and I did and I’m sorry. I’m sorry to him, really. He deserved a lot better than me. I was the real bastard.” Tears are welling in Vyvyan’s eyes again, but he squeezes them shut tighter and keeps talking. “I was a complete arsehole, actually. S-So… God, if there’s something after death, this bloke, his name was Rick Pratt. He didn’t really believe in you, I don’t think, but, in that, afterlife, if there is one, uh- just-… Make sure he’s okay. He’s special to me. I love him. I’m sorry for having gay sex with him but that doesn’t change the fact that I love him, alright? Thanks. Bye, God.” He says, and opens his eyes, wiping at tears that aren’t there yet, and gets back into bed, feeling pretty stupid and unresolved.

At some point, he closes his eyes and maybe drifts off to sleep, maybe not, he can’t really tell anymore since every day seems like he’s walking through a dreamlike haze. But something wakes him up at exactly three in the morning- that’s what his watch says, anyway. It sounded like something crashed down from his dresser, so he gets up to inspect it, turning on his light and seeing what the commotion was. Somehow, Rick’s piggy bank that he stole a while back managed to topple off the chest and break on the floor, spilling out the meager earnings of what looked like four pounds and seven pence. At least he had a little more money for alcohol, he thinks as he rubs his arms. It certainly got chilly in his room for his window not being open. He picks up the cash and the shards of the bank and puts them back on the wooden dresser before turning around to make his way to bed, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees who’s there.

“I can’t believe you never gave that back.” Rick says, sitting on the bed, cross-legged and casual as if Vyvyan’s world isn’t crumbling around him, and he feels like he could cry again. Is he crying? Now that he’s opened the floodgates when he was back in the living room, it’s hard to shut them down. He covers his mouth with his hands to keep from screaming and backs into the dresser, visibly shaking as his face loses all color. “What’s gotten into you?” Rick asks, and Vyvyan scrabbles for some sort of answer he can give.

“Y-You’re dead.” Is all he can manage to utter out, and Rick sighs, rolls his eyes and gives him a jaded look that Vyvyan would find almost endearing if he wasn’t petrified in raw emotion.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” He says with an almost sing-song quality. “I’m glad you’re not dead, but you still look awful.” He continues, giving Vyvyan a sly little smirk. Vyvyan knows it- he still has plasters all over his face and a stubborn bruise across his nose that won’t leave. But Rick looks fine. He looks like he’s all flesh and blood and smiles, as if the car accident never happened. “Are you letting yourself go so soon? Sleeping in your funeral clothes? I saw the empty bottle of vodka on the table, too. You think that’ll change anything? This is just sad.” It stings, but Vyvyan feels like he deserves this.

“A-Are you mad?” It’s a stupid question, but he needs an answer, and surprisingly, Rick has to take a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I suppose at first I was. I am still, just not as much. But you’d be too if your life was cut short. It’s disheartening, really. I had so many more poems to write! So many youngsters to inspire! I could’ve been a martyr for revolution, you know.” Vyvyan swallows and nods.

“Yeah, y-you could’ve been.” He still can’t believe he’s having a conversation with Rick, but he’s still too buzzed to think too hard about it. Not that he wants to. He’s living for this, even if Rick is pissed with him. But Rick looks puzzled.

“Have you been crying?” He asks, suddenly softer, and that was just how Vyvyan remembers him- for all the ranting and raving he did, he could be tender and sweet and god does he miss him. He’s tempted to say no, but he’s done enough lying to him when he was alive. He doesn’t deserve this now, not with everything Vyvyan’s put him through. He nods and his breath hitches like he’s going to cry again and he really wishes he could stop, especially in front of Rick. However, Rick gets off the bed and stands up, walking over to Vyvyan and cups his face, running the pad of his thumb across his cheek, wiping away an idle tear, and god, he’s warm. It’s a different kind of warm- it doesn’t feel like blood is running through him anymore; it’s more like holding a cup of tea, fragile and hot and, deep down, lifeless. And Vyvyan reddens in embarrassment and starts to shy away from Rick’s touch. “Don’t.” He says softly. “You need this.” Vyvyan looks back to him, apprehensive at how loving he is, but he’s right. Rick leans into him and Vyvyan closes his eyes before their lips lock, savoring the sweet taste of him before gasping and pulling away, but not for long. He wraps his arms over Rick’s shoulders and sobs against him, cries wracking his chest as Rick rubs his back, runs his fingers through his hair and shushes him with care and delicacy he hasn’t known for years.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Is all Vyvyan can manage to get out, but he repeats it over and over, holding onto Rick tighter and tighter. Rick doesn’t say anything besides hushing him. “It’s all my fault.” He says, and Rick can’t help the tiny laugh that escapes him.

“Don’t use old cliches.” He gently reprimands, but Vyvyan hasn’t listened.

“You wouldn’t be dead if I hadn’t taken you out that night a-and I should’ve told you how I felt and I should’ve fucking kissed you until we couldn’t breathe and I should’ve f-fucking listened I’m so sorry I’m so fucking sorry Rick I’m sorry I’m sorry-” He says without stopping or taking a breath until Rick interrupts him.

“I’m here now.” He says, and that almost makes Vyvyan cry harder.

“But you’re dead. You’re n-not really here.” He says, finally lifting his face off of Rick’s shoulder and wiping his tear stained cheeks. “This is a dream, cos… Cos you’re dead, Rick. You’re d-dead and it’s my fault.”

“Stop that, will you!” Rick spits, and Vyvyan shuts up, but Rick immediately softens again. “I’m… Sorry… It’s still a bit of a sensitive topic.” He cups Vyvyan’s face with both hands and smiles at him fondly. “But I’m here now.” He coos. “Sounds like you’ve got lots of regrets.” He teases.

“Yeah.” Vyvyan nods, looking down, almost ashamed. Rick tilts Vyvyan’s face back up to look at him.

“It’s okay. But don’t hold onto it for the rest of your life, yeah? Because you do have a whole life ahead of you. Don’t waste too much time on me.” Rick says gently, but there’s a small pain behind his eyes, and Vyvyan knows it. Rick would never be this selfless. So he decides to come clean to him.

“How can I not waste time on you? I love you.” He says, and it’s nearly a whisper, but he can practically feel the warmth in Rick’s smile. Rick ruffles his hair affectionately, and Vyvyan lets him, because it feels good and he needs it.

“I love you too.” Rick finally says. And this time, Vyvyan is the one to kiss him first, and Rick responds lovingly and fondly and keeps him close.

“Please don’t leave.” Vyvyan whispers, and Rick aches a little inside.

“You know I have to.” He responds.

“Then take me with you.” He swallows and holds Rick tighter. “I don’t want to be here without you.” Rick sighs and takes Vyvyan off him, but doesn’t take his hands away.

“Come on, let’s sleep. It’s been a long day.” He says, walking backwards towards Vyvyan’s bed and taking his hand, and Vyvyan follows, because he’s too tired to object and he wants to spend every waking moment he can with Rick. Rick lays down with Vyvyan before pulling the blankets over them and spooning him, holding him close. He pulls Vyvyan’s shirt collar down a bit to kiss his neck, and Vyvyan’s eyelids feel heavier with each feather-soft kiss. This moment with Rick, he never wants it to end. He’d give anything to stay like this forever.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, holding onto Rick’s hand that’s slung over his chest. Rick kisses him again.

“I know.” He says.

“Do you really?” Vyvyan asks, because he’s done everything he could to not show Rick his real feelings, and doesn’t quite believe him.

“I do.” Rick says and sighs against his hair. “Sleep now.”

“Don’t leave.” Vyvyan feels Rick kiss his neck more as he’s left without an answer, but he closes his eyes anyway, letting sleep take him as Rick’s steady breath warms his neck and his heat lulls him off.

In the morning, his bed is empty, but Vyvyan’s heart feels just a little more full when he looks at the broken piggy bank on his dresser and smiles to himself.


End file.
